John August

So-Called Experts

Stressing over structure

QandA, So-Called Experts, Writing Process

When you write, are you consciously aware of
structuring your screenplay, or it is something that
is more instinctive?

— Brian
Galway, Ireland

When I was first starting out, I was paranoid about structure — but that’s because I didn’t know what it really was.

I had of course read [Syd Field’s book](http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/redirect?tag=johnaugustcom-20&path=tg%2Fdetail%2F-%2F0440576474%2Fqid%3D1098308154%2Fsr%3D8-1%2Fref%3Dpd_csp_1%3Fv%3Dglance%26s%3Dbooks%26n%3D507846), and I worried that if I wasn’t hitting my act breaks at exactly the right page number, I was a dismal failure. Then at USC I was introduced to a “clothesline” template, which was baffling. People smarter than me would talk about eight sequences, or eleven sequences, and I would nod as if I understood.

And now I do: It’s all bunk.

At the risk of introducing another screenwriting metaphor, I’ll say that structure is like your skeleton. It’s the framework on which you hang the meat of your story. If someone’s bones are in the wrong place, odds are he’ll have a hard time moving, and it won’t be comfortable. It’s the same with a screenplay. If the pieces aren’t put together right, the story won’t work as well as it could.

But here’s the thing: not every skeleton is the same.

Think about it in real-world terms.
Human skeletons are pretty consistent, but you also have gazelles and giraffes, cockroaches and hummingbirds, each with a different structure, but all equally valid designs. The standard dogma about screenplay structure focuses on hitting certain moments at certain page numbers. But in my experience, these measurements hold true for [Chinatown](http://imdb.com/title/tt0071315/) and nothing I’ve actually written.

My advice? Stop thinking about structure as something you impose upon your story. It’s an inherent part of it, like the setup to a joke. As you’re figuring out the story you want to tell, ask yourself a few questions:

1. What’s the next thing this character would realistically do?
2. What’s the most interesting thing this character could do?
3. Where do I want the story to go next?
4. Where do I want the story to end up eventually?
5. Does this scene stand up on its own merit, or is it just setting stuff up for later?
6. What are the later repercussions of this scene? How could I maximize them?

If you answer these questions at every turn, I guarantee you’ll have a terrifically structured screenplay. It might not hit predefined act breaks, but it will be consistently engaging, something that can’t be said for many “properly structured” scripts.

Backing up is hard to do

QandA, So-Called Experts

questionmarkI just had the unfortunate happen: the dog pulled my laptop off the table by tripping across the power cord. Yeah. Anyhow, I lost a bunch of screenwriting materials because the fall damaged my harddrive beyond repair.

I’m learning the VERY hard way that backing up is not just a good “insurance policy” but a MUST. I thought it might be a subject you might shed some light on from your personal experience.

— Eric
Indiana

Like flossing, stretching, and updating your will, backing up your work is one of those unquestioned Good Ideas that’s pretty easy to ignore. It’s the law of delayed consequences: people tend to put off work that doesn’t have immediate gratification.

Honestly, I don’t back up nearly as much as I should. Or, “should.” If you read any computer magazine, they’re constantly harping on you to back up every night to a redundant RAID, then weekly to a tape drive, with off-site storage and whatnot.

Bah. My philosophy can be summarized in six words: What’s the worst that could happen?

It’s a revelation that came to me the last time I switched to a new computer. I dutifully dragged my files onto an external hard drive, ready to migrate them to their new home, when I realized that pretty much everything I needed on the new computer was either…

  • already installed, or
  • would need to be redownloaded for the most recent version.

The only item that needed to make the move was my “Projects” folder, a mere 500 megabytes. So why was I bothering with everything else? It was time to apply my new philosophy.

What’s the worst that could happen if I didn’t back up my applications and system software? Well, it would take a little more time to re-install them. But, I’d be saving a lot of time by not bothering to back them up every day/week/month.

What’s the worst that could happen if I didn’t back up my old projects? Well, I’d hate to lose them; they’re like old friends frozen in 12pt Courier. Beyond the emotional cost, I do occasionally need to refer back to them. So it’s worth the effort to periodically grab the folder off the server and copy it to my local hard drive. Likewise, every few months I burn a copy of the whole thing onto a CD-ROM and mail it to my mother in Colorado, figuring that if an asteroid wipes out California, at least future generations will be able to read what [SCOOBY-DOO](http://imdb.com/title/tt0267913/) was like before they cut it down to a PG rating. (Answer: much funnier.)

What’s the worst that could happen if I lost the current version of the project I’m working on? This is probably the worst-case scenario, because I’m generally on deadline and working for people with very little patience for technical difficulties. If I’m using my Powerbook, I’ll often email the file to myself as a backup, and also save it to my keychain drive. When I’m at home, I’ll often do the email trick, or copy items to my .Mac iDisk.

And then there’s the backups you don’t even plan. In Guns, Germs and Steel, Jared Diamond makes a convincing argument that the best place for a tribal chief to store his surplus food is in his neighbor’s stomach. The same is true for data. (Go with me here.) Most of the scripts I work on these days travel around as .pdfs. One side benefit of this digitalization is that for any given script, some friend or assistant will invariably have a copy sitting in her mail. I sleep a little more soundly knowing that I could simply ask her to send it back.

In conclusion: Backing up is a waste of time, except for the few items for which it’s crucial. So worry about those, and not the rest.

The Get A Mentor program

QandA, So-Called Experts

We met some time ago back in April of this year. You came to Boulder and were kind enough to come and speak to a group of aspiring writers. I was the one in the front who asked the question about the character Ronna (if she was meant to be black).

I wanted to find out if this Get A Mentor program is worthwhile. I’d like to be a director, but I’d like to obtain some practical experience beforehand. Any advice?

–Rayna
Denver

Rayna’s referring to the character [Sarah Polley](http://imdb.com/name/nm0001631/) played in [GO](http://imdb.com/title/tt0139239/). In an early script, I had written that she was “eighteen, black and bleeding.” When we were casting the film, we met with black, white and Latina actresses for the part, and ultimately picked Sarah, who was sublime. Over the years, a few people have written to ask if I was forced to change Ronna’s ethnicity, or if I felt it changed the movie in any way. No, and no. Her race was never a story point, so all that mattered to me was finding the actress who could nail the part.

I’m assuming the program you’re writing about is [this one](http://www.getamentor.com/), but I’m not familiar with it beyond what I’ve just read on its website. It seems legit, up until the point you’re paying a couple thousand dollars for privilege of being mentored. Call me old-fashioned, but I consider mentoring to be a pro-bono thing. And I don’t know what value you’d get talking to this mentor on the phone.

As an avid snoop, I’ve been trying to figure out more about this program. Based on its [Better Business Bureau profile](http://search.bbb.org/), it’s located at 7095 Hollywood Blvd. #325. That may be a rented mailbox. There’s a “Mail and More” at that address, and the guy who answered the phone said #325 was probably one of their mailboxes.

Now, a lot of legit businesses use rented mailboxes. But I always get a little nervous sending money to strangers, especially if I couldn’t track them down if I had to. None of this is meant to scare you off, or say that this organization is in any way shady. Its mission is certainly laudable, so I’d love to say that it’s as helpful as it claims. If any readers have experience with it, please write in.

Hiring a “script doctor”

QandA, So-Called Experts

I just got to LA a few months ago. I have written a few screenplays, well received from a manager, producer and teachers at my college. But have not landed an agent or manager, yet. I am writing a new script, it’s a hard write but very rewarding. It not only has commercial appeal but I think it is my step in the right direction.

A fellow writer suggested this script doctor to me, just to help me after I got through the “grunt” of my script and really help me polish it. I have tried workshops and things like that with my other scripts, but I do not find them very effective. I figure I would rather take the money and give it to a pro, get a one on one meeting with them and get good notes, of course do the re-writes myself, but getting someone else to look at it and help. My friend the writer tells me he would not send anything out before it goes through her. He swears by her. I think I might try it. Any advice about going to a script doctor?

–Silla Desade
Los Angeles

“Script doctor” generally means something different in the industry, so I want to draw a distinction between the kind of script doctor you’re talking about and the kind of script doctor [Variety](http://www.variety.com) would talk about.

In the industry, a script doctor is an established screenwriter with a bunch of credits who comes in on a project shortly before production and does a rewrite to fix some specific, nagging problems. (Or, depending on your perspective, destroys the things that made the project unique.) [Steve Zaillian](http://imdb.com/name/nm0001873/) is a highly-regarded script doctor. Arguably, I could be considered a script doctor, because I’ve done a fair number of these 23rd-hour emergency jobs. But no one’s business card reads “script doctor.” It’s a specific task within screenwriting, but not really a profession in-and-of itself.

A lot of times, the work you do on these projects is described as “surgical,” which fits well with the script doctor moniker. Generally, you’re not rewriting the whole script. You’re fixing a few key sections that aren’t working.

The person your friend is recommending to you may or may not be a screenwriter. In some cases, it could be someone analogous to a literary editor, who goes through a text and helps “clean it up” before publication. If so, great. Good writers are not always good proofreaders, and it’s important to have sharp eyes looking over your work.

If this person is truly going to rewrite your script, however, I have to question the legitimacy of your career aspirations. Screenwriting isn’t about banging out a first draft and letting someone else make it shine. If you really have limitations in a given area — dialogue, plotting, whatever — you need a writing partner, not a self-styled guru.